Songs of Love
by xXDark.Lord.MeloniousXx
Summary: Harry's single slip of grace in the Potions Room sends him and Draco Malfoy into a humiliation spiral of conflict and buried emotions being brought to life. HD, angst and fluff overloads.
1. Search For Words

**New HarryxDraco fic! I hope you enjoy the first two chapters :]**

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All in all, there was nothing particularly strange or foreboding about that day. Draco woke up early, in his private room, as always, the sun only just rising as he showered and dressed. He buttoned up his collared shirt, he smoothed the collar and straightened some creases, he slithered his grey sweater-vest over his head and pulled at the hem. He slipped a black belt through the loops of his formal, black pants; the silver lock of the buckle shined like his designer shoes. He slicked his platinum hair back, running his fingers through his pampered sleeves of blonde and slipping on his silver watch that identified the time, place and mood he was in. He left his room, locking the door behind him and slipping the key into his back pocket, his book-bag over his shoulder and said shoulders boyish and posed in pride, his chest and pace carrying that all-too familiar Slytherin and Malfoy pride. He attended breakfast and heard the much loathed muttering of gossip as he entered the Great Hall; the owls had already arrived, and there were two letters from his parents in Azkaban. The Great Hall still held a scent of dust, a sort of aftertaste of battle. Harry Potter had survived. Harry Potter had even saved him.

Harry Potter had also tried to kill him directly after saving his life during the battle, though, so he wasn't keen on thanking him. Hermione Granger and her new boyfriend (post final battle with Voldemort), Ron Weasley were walking beside The Chosen One; they noticed the wave of whispering too, whenever Draco entered a room. He scoffed and brushed it off, walking proudly to his seat, disposing of the letters and eating in silence. He felt their stares, but pretended not to. He wasn't really built for confrontation; the Imperius curse was the only reason he seemed to have so much courage in being a complete ass. But it was their seventh year in school, and his reputation was far from alterable, and he was trying to come to peace with that. As long as he could get to graduation safely, he had no regrets and the Parkinsons (his foster-care family—that is, until he's legally allowed to live alone) took wonderful care of him. Enough care that they didn't expect him to talk about his past, being under the Imperius for months at a time or his conferences with The Dark Lord.

The morning dragged, but at eleven forty-three, Draco would religiously arrive two minutes early to Potions, a habit he couldn't break even after his Godfather's death. He neatly placed his textbook at the corner of the table, aligned with the sharp, mahogany right angle and glared at the female professor. She was very feminine and soft-spoken, the complete opposite of Severus; sure, he muttered, but he never tarnished the name of Potions by degrading the students so thoroughly that their final project was a Love Potion. Yes, they had been studying Love Potions in celebration of the kindness and love realized throughout the war, the final battle and as a symbolic, and in Draco's opinion, pitiful, tribute to the good of the Wizarding World's triumph. She smiled sweetly, inquiring,

"Mr. Malfoy, your potion is coming out wonderfully. You're so very diligent, is it your late Godfather that taught you such obedience in your studies?"

His mouth tightened in distain until he responded, "Yes, in fact, he did teach me all about Potions,"

"From what I have learned, I have a lot to live up to. He sounded like a wonderful man,"

"He certainly was,"

_Even though he cared for Potter more than me._

The bell rang and students began pouring in. His table partner was The Boy Who Lived; he assumed that Harry had become used to Draco's silence and indifferent compliance in partnership. In the beginning, Harry even seemed surprised by Draco's willingness to work with him. But he learned quickly that Draco was a man of few words and it wasn't worth trying to make small talk. Said student sat beside him, dropping his disheveled papers unceremoniously on the tabletop, sighing and eventually meeting Draco's intent stare. It was questioning him and his unkempt appearance, intentionally.

"I…uh…some Slytherins slapped my books out of my hands, and I didn't have the time to pick it all up in the hall without getting trampled, so…"

Draco sighed, standing up and helping organize the papers; Harry was so shocked he could only stare as Draco looked down at the scrolls and assigned them to their respective books.

"Save the Wizarding World from chaotic destruction and social cleansing and you still get knocked around…"

Harry's expression calmed as he stated bluntly, "You're one to talk,"

Draco shot him a nasty look and remembered why he didn't speak to Harry. He dropped the rest of the scrolls in his hold and sat down again. Harry looked like he had realized he insulted Draco and was disappointed to lose his aid. The bell rang again and everyone was seated in their assigned placements. The professor smiled at everyone and announced,

"Alright, guys, take out your cauldrons and I'll be coming around to check them and grade them,"

Draco looked to the boy beside him; the corner of his mouth was twitching slightly, his thick brows were furrowed strangely and his thumb was running quickly up and down his ring finger. Draco's mouth opened into a whisper as they both stood,

"Don't sweat it, Potter, we've got this covered,"

"How do you know?" He asked as the table moved apart into two halves, a caldron rising up in between.

"She practically kissed my feet over the damn potion; she's definitely going to give us a passing grade, so don't be so nervous,"

Harry wasn't unused to Draco's few phrases of wisdom or comfort in quiet times when no one else seemed to notice Harry was uncomfortable, but he _was_ unused to Draco's approachable aura. Over time, as table partners, they had grown a tolerance for the other. Harry learned, though, that Draco was the only one who could tell whenever he was nervous. He had prided himself for hiding it well for a long while, but Draco seemed to see right through him. He tried not to think on it too much, as it would lead to other thoughts of Draco, of his articulate nature and sophistication that Harry almost envied. He didn't like the thoughts of feeling lower than Draco Malfoy, but after having tried to kill him and still receive even indifferent kindness from him, he couldn't help but feel bad. Of course, of course he felt bad. It was always easier to wallow in self-pity and keep a mutual hatred-based relationship on route when one was fueled by anger. But he couldn't be angry at Draco. He wasn't. And it seemed that Draco wasn't angry at him.

_What does that make us, though…?_

"Well, I've already given a good look at all the caldrons, late last night, but presentation is a big part of Potions," The professor began, "If you all stand proud by your caldrons, it may not always seem so, but it helps your grades. I'd like to bring up the class's top potion, by Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy and I'd like them to share how they executed every instruction perfectly,"

She grinned at the pair as the class clapped unenthusiastically. No one liked clapping for Draco Malfoy. He didn't mind that much; or at least, that's what he told himself. Not to mention, Hermione Granger hated clapping for other's academic achievements, even if one of the victors was her friend. Draco walked around the table, gripping the lip of the caldron and dragging it to the front of the class; Draco had self-taught himself wordless and wandless magic, so there really was no need to burden his athletic arms with manual labor, but it did not occur to Draco that it could ever present a problem. He backed up a few feet away from his first-row table and looked up to see Harry at losing his grace. At having been knocked in the hallway, he had arrived in Potions looking somewhat messy, more specifically, though, his cloak was tagging along his feet, slipping from his shoulders in a loose fit.

Draco had risen his icy eyes just in time to watch the black fabric get caught under Harry's large left foot and gravity took its toll on the tall Quidditch player; he fell face first, his chin just hitting the lip of the caldron, across from Draco's spidery fingers. At the abrupt and violent contact, the caldron fell with Harry, landing on his head and the sound of rushing liquid woke Draco to the realization of Harry being drenched in their once perfect potion. Draco's hands had let go of the black pot and had defaulted to his sides in tight, defensive fists that strung even more tightly at the harsh sound of the caldron hitting the floor with the rest of Harry's body. When time came back into focus, Draco rushed to the seemingly unconscious body on the floor, the class rising in volume, some standing to get a better view of the incident. He lifted the pot from the boy's head, the professor bent over, her face writ with worry as Draco helped Harry sit up. The caldron rolled away, the last of the pink liquid dripping from the rim as Harry coughed.

Draco wiped some of the potion from Harry's face as he coughed, his left hand planted on Harry's shoulder as his right thumb pushed across his cheek. Harry opened his naked eyes to Draco, squinting, pink and poor vision blurring his sight. Draco took note of the strange expression and looked over into the caldron, retrieving the pair of glasses, dripping as heavily as all of Harry's torso. He slipped them behind Harry's ears after wiping the pink smear away with his own cloak sleeve. Harry blinked, coughing once more and staring at Draco until the blonde finally asked,

"Are you alright?"

"…Malfoy…"

One of his thin brows sank, "What?"

There was a thick silence in which everyone was heavy with worry, except for the apparently clueless Slytherin. His forehead creased in concern again,

"Are you okay? Do you know where you are? Who you are?" He paused, "…Hello?"

Harry's large hand lifted up, brushing at Draco's cheek, causing him to flinch and move away a bit before moving his gaze back to Harry's,

"…what?"

Harry's eyes seemed foggy, and it wasn't just because his glasses were smeared,

"Malfoy…I think…"

"…what? You're hurt?"

"…I'm in love with you,"

Reality finally struck Draco; he blinked, his face stoic and pale,

"…what?"

"I-I've never…felt like this before…I don't…know…how to…"

"How to what?"

"Merlin, have you always been this bloody gorgeous, Malfoy?"

The class began to giggle as Draco's face filled with blood; he backed away, his knees covered in pink and designer shoes ruined. He looked in dismay to the professor; her expression mirrored his as he asked,

"I thought…you have to drink it to fall in love?!"

She shrugged, shaking nervously, "I-I suppose that's why he coughed! He must've swallowed some of it, and you were the first person he saw!"

Draco was not pleased.

"W-what do you mean!? What am I supposed to do now?!"

Harry smiled cutely, muttering, "I never noticed how cute you are when you're worried, Malfoy,"

The blonde cringed in disgust, not breaking his stare with the female as she ran an anxious hand through her red hair and warned him,

"You need to get out of the classroom for now, Mr. Malfoy,"

"Wait…why? What's going on? What's going to happen?"

She glanced to Harry, the entire class looking at his pitifully girlish day-dreamy stare stuck on Draco, then back to the latter and explained,

"The first few hours of the potion initiate…uhm…intense sexual desire, it's best that you leave for now and avoid him for the next six to eight hours, then we'll work this whole mess out—"

"This whole mess? THIS WHOLE MESS? You mean this **catastrophe**!? You mean this undeserved imminent **doom**?! You mean this-"

"Malfoy," Draco felt a tug at the hem of his pants; he looked down at the boy and his bedroom eyes, "Malfoy, would you come back to nursing me? I think I may have twisted my ankle, could you help me stand? Carry me, maybe?"

Draco blushed furiously, kicking Harry's hand away, glaring at the professor and snarling,

"Severus never would have let this happen!"

"I beg to differ, Mr. Malfoy, as I am not the one who dropped the Love Potion on Mr. Potter,"

"He wouldn't have made us make stupid Love Potions in the first place!"

"Love Potion?" Harry asked innocently; all eyes fell on him again, "What Love Potion?"

Draco slapped his hand on his forehead, the professor looking at the blonde and explaining,

"He doesn't realize he's under the influence of a potion, he's convinced it's true love and-"

"I know, damn it, I told you, Severus taught me everything…"

Draco looked to Harry, the prophet smiling at him in a flirtatious but dumbfounded sort of way. Never suave, that one, probably never would be.


	2. As Light As The Birds

**Chapter two! :D**

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"Is he…doing alright?"

"Yes, he's doing much better now, you can go see him if you like,"

Draco's face slanted, "Is that…really a safe idea?"

"Oh yes, he's come to his senses now that a few hours have passed, so just go in and say hello, he's been really dying to see you. It might do him some good,"

The blonde sighed, moving past the nurse and into the Hospital Wing where Harry Potter had been transferred to after his unfortunate accident in the Potions room. Ron Weasley had tried pulverizing Draco Malfoy after hearing what happened but was stopped by Hermione Granger, infuriated all the same, but much more calm and controlled. She traded some nasty words with him, but soon after left. They visited their friend and from what was floating around the school gossip, he had been everything but down on his knees, begging for Draco's company. The Slytherin ran his spidery hand through the part of his hair, sighing deeply and turned the corner to enter a new opening in which the Boy Who Lived could be found. His eyes fell on ebony hair; thick and glossy, fanned out beneath his handsome, sleeping face. His glasses sat unattended to on his bedside table beside a tall glass of water, his book-bag and unlit candles.

Draco approached the deep-breathing figure cautiously, wondering if he should speak or move at all. That insecurity was ignored by the loud intake of Harry, his eyes fluttering opening and his arms stretching over his head in a grand yawn. His eyes scrunched at Draco before he calmly fumbled for his glasses. He couldn't seem to find them and so Draco walked to the right side of the bed, taking them by their stems and fitting them over the boy's ears. He glanced behind him and backed up to the bed close behind. They were parted by three feet of white tiles, a thick silence making Draco strangely uncomfortable. Draco always believed that discomfort was meant for common people who couldn't appreciate a meaningful silence. This, however, was a time appropriate for even an etiquette and ego-trained Malfoy to lose some composure. He balanced his elbows on his thighs, his fingers playing with each other anxiously between his knees, his sizeable feet suddenly much more interesting and distracting than Harry's intent stare.

"You look like you've gotten the color back into your face, you know…"

"Y-yeah…" Harry's voice was strange and tired, but he sounded much less deluded and breathy since last Draco had heard him, "I'm…pretty fucking pissed at you, Malfoy,"

Draco cocked a brow, "Excuse me?"

"I'm…this potion is making me all effed up and I blame it completely on you,"

"Me?"

"Yes, you're the one that made all those Slytherins hate me, if they hadn't pushed me in the hall—"

"They would've hated you no matter what I told them, Potter,"

Harry exhaled angrily, "Shut up…"

A quiet fell until Draco inquired, "So you're…back to normal, right?"

Harry looked away, brushing at the side slides of his hair shortly before answering more humbly,

"Well…no, not…really…"

"What do you mean 'not really'?"

"I'm still in love with you,"

Draco's heart sank at the words, tickling his stomach strangely. He scowled, as that was the Malfoy way of hiding any flattery or discomfort.

"…you're…in love with me still?"

"Yeah, I can't remember the direct, you know, initial reaction to the potion, but apparently I've royally humiliated myself far worse than you ever could've,"

"It wasn't that bad," Draco half-heartedly replied, "it wasn't like you jumped me or anything,"

"No, Ron told me everyone had to leave the room…"

"…why?"

"I started…" Draco felt his heart thump abnormally at seeing the red creep onto Harry's features, "…started…jerking it when I woke up from sedation. They all got freaked out and—"

"They sedated you?" Draco nearly snapped.

"They had to, apparently," Harry continued, "I was…really on the hunt for you, it seems…"

"Really? You're better now, though, right?"

Harry laughed, feeling somewhat light-hearted all of a sudden, "I've never wanted to fuck something that badly in my entire life,"

Harry found it oddly endearing how the Malfoy's face turned a complete beet red at the blatant statement. There was another quiet that fell between them until Harry added,

"I hate this,"

"Hate what?"

"Feeling like this for you…I mean, you're a complete ass,"

He tried to keep from laughing when he watched, just as he expected and intended, the blonde's brow furrowed and he glowered, looking down his nose at Harry,

"Shut the hell up, Potter, I only came to see you to take some pity on your—"

"That's right, **you** came to see **me**,"

Draco breathed through his nose, practically breathing out steam,

"Yes, I was attempting to be civil, but I see working with the likes of you is as futile as it's always been,"

He stood, his eyes on the door as he turned his back, but he found that he couldn't leave. Not emotional anchoring, but physical.

He glanced down.

"What are you…what are you holding my hand for?"

He felt Harry's grip around his digits tighten slightly,

"I…don't want you to leave, I'm sorry…ugh, no I'm not I'm…I'm in love with you, Draco…just…just stay and bear with it with me? Please?"

Draco attempted to bleach the red that stained his otherwise flawless face before turning around,

"What…" He was feeling strangely sympathetic for the Chosen One, "…what do you want me to…do?"

Harry looked away, the pressure of Draco's eyes posing too much of a threat on his lower regions,

"Sit down on my bed,"

Draco looked away from Harry, his expression absurdly adorable and forcing Draco to resist the urge to lean down and kiss him.

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Y-yeah, it should be fine now. I mean…even if I did try anything, it's not like you couldn't fight me off,"

Draco chuckled, making Harry's heart pump a bit faster,

"I could easily take you on, Potter, but a love potion does funny things to a person, you know,"

Harry ignored the hit to his ego and instead asked,

"Funny things? What, like super-human strength?"

"No," Draco shook his head, "not at all. It's about desire, Potter. People under love potions are…they seem to have super-strength sometimes because they never know a lust like the lust a love potion creates, and so if they want to…have their way with their love, they'll get it,"

Harry admired the satin and warm feeling of Draco's hand entwined with his, petting his broom-callused thumb against Draco's porcelain knuckles,

"Would you…would you just sit?"

"Can you handle it?"

Harry wanted to laugh, laugh as he would have before the potion, but it'd be too absurd. It was a serious question, and he had a serious lie of an answer.

"Yes, I can, just sit,"

The blonde sighed, sitting beside Harry as he shifted under the covers. He leaned against the headboard of his hospital bed,

"I really hate this…"

"Whine, whine, whine, is that all you can do?"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy, you haven't a clue to how hard this is,"

There was a short silence in which Draco was testing the waters and had correctly predicted what Harry was about to do.

"…sorry,"

"It's alright, Potter,"

"Shut up, you know I'm not really sorry, it's the potion talking,"

"Yes, I know, but it's nice to finally hear you with some manners,"

Harry tried to glare, but his emotions for Draco couldn't bring him to. To him Draco seemed too beautiful to give an ugly look to. It appeared to Harry that Draco was anticipating a scowl and a sarcastic remark, but when it didn't come he had to look away.

"Malfoy…do you have a middle name?"

"A middle name?"

"Yeah,"

"You only call me by my last name, does it matter?"

"Well do you?"

"I was named after a prince from some weird legend my mother is infatuated with, it's ridiculous really,"

"Just spit it out?"

"…Draco Astale Ei Var Daemonia Eucharistia Aram…Malfoy…I just consider it Astale,"

"…Astale?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, "What prince?"

"It's from an old magical fairytale,"

"Tell it to me,"

Draco cocked a thin brow, "What?"

"Malfoy, I love you," They both paused to blush furiously, "You're going to have to put up with me…I…I want to be near you and I know this potion will make me brave enough to be close to you a lot…just make the best of it until they make the antidote,"

"…the legend says that Prince Aram—what they called him for short—fled his kingdom and resigned from his promise of the throne, abandoned his fiancé and all his people, leaving his kingdom in economic, social and political distress to be with the one he loved. His people had a special magic that gave them eternal youth and beauty and he sacrificed it all with all his riches and family and friends and all the life he knew to flee with one called, Hershikia Lei Liply. For his sacrifice, he was granted eternal youth and beauty with his lover by the greater powers and as legend has it, they were banished from their home kingdom and so left to the dark side of the moon to make their lives. The ending goes that they loved for all eternity, their kisses becoming the stars and their love coloring the galaxies for all to wish on and seek guidance from in search of their own bravery and strength,"

"Wow, that's a wonderful story,"

"I suppose,"

"Was she beautiful?"

"Who?"

"Hershikia?"

"He,"

There was a short silence.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Hershikia was a man,"

"…you were named after a gay prince that traded all his hard work for a commoner's life on the effing moon?"

Draco scowled, "Shut your mouth, Potter, I'm proud to carry his name,"

Harry sighed, falling back into his cushions that also sighed under his weight, "Whatever floats your boat, Malfoy,"

Draco stood up again, making Harry's stomach sink. Harry looked off to his right, his brows furrowing, forcing his request that Draco stay down his throat before giving it a chance to be tossed messily from his mouth. He heard the boy sigh,

"Well, I just came to see if you're doing well and it seems you're fine,"

"I'm in love with you, Malfoy, that doesn't qualify as fine,"

He hadn't known what kind of reaction he'd been fishing for, but the one he got was intriguing.

"Sounds about right,"

"…what?"

Draco turned towards him, "Nothing. I'll come and see you again tomorrow,"

As he picked up his book-bag, slipping it over his cloaked shoulder, Harry frowned, a twist of flattery and anticipation mixing with regret in putting him off and sadness that he was leaving. Harry sat up, the blankets slipping down to his abdomen that hadn't stopped throbbing wantonly since he was restricted to his hospital bed with only thoughts of Draco Malfoy to distract him from the blandness of the room and the aftertaste of the boring air. His hands tensed by his waist sides, gripping the sheets lightly,

"I twisted my ankle,"

Draco looked back at him from a few feet away, the open window playing strangely beautiful shadows on Draco's face. He was stoic and distant as usual when he asked,

"What?"

"I wasn't just deluded when I tried to get you to carry me, I really hurt it. It's sprained,"

"I suppose you blame that on me too?"

"…yes, I do,"

Draco huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, "And what will you have me do about it?"

"You want to make it up to me?"

"Well, you're the one that said I'd have to warm up to you, right? So what'll make your sprained ankle better by me?"

Harry twisted on the bed, pushing the blankets aside and letting his legs fall over the side of the bed. Draco admired the white frosting-like effect the sunshine slipped under slides of Harry's hair and he noticed for the first time exactly how long that ebony hair was. Harry's face was hidden under his hair, his head tilted down and looking down his leg; Draco followed that stare and found Harry's revealed leg, his ankle wrapped neatly and tightly in more white. He lifted his leg delicately, cracking his ankle, his expression unreadable and head tilted. He lifted his face finally, looked at Draco and finally answered,

"Kiss it and make it better,"

Draco flustered, his heart skipping a beat,

"Harry, this is the potion talking, remember? I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm a Slytherin, you hate me, try and remember,"

Harry shook his head, "I remember, I hate the good feelings I have for you, Malfoy, I don't want them, but they're here. Do this for me, please, I've been dying to touch you and be near you and you're leaving too soon to the potion's liking. So you owe me this much for my torture,"

Draco was humbled by…he didn't want to say Harry. It was the quiet, desolate tone to his voice, or the way the light was hitting the tiny particles in the air or the sound of the blankets brushing against tan flesh, it was all of that. He put his bag down and took off his cloak, setting it on the foot of the bed. Harry watched Draco walk over and asked,

"Why did you take your cloak off?"

Draco didn't make eye-contact as he knelt down onto one knee,

"So you can see my Slytherin insignia as I'm doing this and it'll hopefully knock some sense into you,"

"Love isn't about logic, Malfoy,"

Draco flustered again; that word "love" was really making his blood tickle. When it fell off of Harry's full lips it made poprocks go off in his veins, his stomach tickled and his ears tingled. He shook it off and gingerly placed one of his satin palms under Harry's heel, his spidery fingers just brushing the other side of his foot. He unclipped the gauze from the back of his foot and slowly unwrapped the swollen joint. His right thumb centered in the arch of Harry's foot, his other digits barely touching the bridge of Harry's midfoot. His eyes were low and Harry's heart was thumping ferociously as Draco took the leg's weight in his dexterous, feathery hands and turned his head, pressing his warm mouth tenderly against the sensitive, pained swore. He stayed there for a few moments, kissing elsewhere where it seemed to be bruised or red. He planted a final and seventh kiss on the center of the ankle's bump, looking up to Harry and inquiring,

"Happy now?"

Draco hated admitting to himself how undeniably adorable and hypnotizing Harry's face was; so flattered and flustered. He met Draco's gaze finally,

"Look at it now,"

Draco glanced down to see the swelling had dissipated and the discoloring had vanished. He looked back up to Harry with shock writ across his face. Harry chuckled cutely,

"Love potion does funny things to a person,"

Draco blushed, looking away, "Can I leave now?"

"I'd like you to stay,"

"I know you would, idiot, but I shouldn't,"

"…I know,"

Draco re-wrapped the one-time injury and slid the boy's legs back in bed. He spread the covers over Harry, eliciting,

"This is going to really suck,"

"…yeah, I know,"

Harry smiled, "I'm glad you're being so sympathetic, Malfoy…"

Draco smirked, "I'm glad you see it that way, Potter,"

Harry wasn't sure what he meant at that time, but he should have known better than to trust a Malfoy like that.


	3. That Circle Above

**Chapter three! Thanks for all the reviews and adds so far! We have quite the adventure ahead of us! X3**

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His silver watch that told him the place, mood and time he was in was broken, his sweater-vest was ruined, his collared shirt stained with pink and designer shoes destroyed from Harry Potter's spill the day before. However, Draco had a feeling that it was going to be a good night. He dressed in casual clothes, as his other uniforms were in the wash. He left his private room to go to the Great Hall and found Harry sitting with his friends. He had emerged into the room with eleven other students that all went in different directions. He stood there, watching Harry. His long lashes and the candles levitating around the hall cast shadows down his face, his platinum hair shining and skin practically sparkling. He was at ease, having left his wand in his room; there was no need to fear going in to the boy's bathroom anymore and there was certainly no fear in going in to the Great Hall anymore. He examined Harry from afar; he must have borrowed clothes from Ron Weasley. He was wearing a sweater, ill-fitting jeans and shoes Draco could tell were too tight. He smirked to himself; their friendship was just so bizarre.

He began his strides in the room, never feeling so confident before. It took a few moments, but soon the entire hall was silent. All eyes were on him, watching him move across the floor to where Ron Weasley glared, Hermione Granger stared quizzically and Harry turned to meet Draco's intent gaze. Draco's heart was pounding out of his chest, his pulse's violent race giving him a headache as he reached the table. He looked down at Harry and put his hand out,

"Potter, come with me,"

Harry's face broke into a handsome smile, "Yeah, sure,"

Ron's arm reached across the table, gripping Harry's right wrist, looking to him angrily, "No, Harry,"

Hermione glanced between her boyfriend and The Boy Who Lived anxiously.

"That's the potion talking, Harry, remember," Ron reminded him.

Harry looked to Ron, then back to Draco and he frowned deeply,

"My friends say I shouldn't, Malfoy. What are you planning?"

"Who's more important?"

"What?"

"Your friends, or me, the love of your life?"

Harry scowled, blushing, "You are not the love of my life, Malfoy, you're just what I have to deal with right now,"

Draco's lips slanted, "Well, I'm awfully put out now,"

"Good," Ron snapped.

Draco sighed, "Well, I suppose we're even now,"

Harry cocked a brow, "…what do you mean?"

"You said you blamed me for what happened and you were embarrassed about it and angry. Well, now that the entire Great Hall has watched me be shot down by someone who is supposed to be physically incapable of saying no to me and your peasant has insulted me, I am officially, royally humiliated and aggravated, and you know what?"

Harry gulped as Draco took his hand back into one of his pants pockets, leaning down to Harry's ear and muttering,

"I blame you,"

Draco straightened his back, his face as unreadable and stoic as ever. Draco had been under the Imperius for so long, he didn't really remember that he was capable of making expressions other than glares. He tilted his head, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes as if exhausted,

"I suppose you won't change your mind, then. Very sorry, then, Potter. Don't go thinking I'll tell you what I had planned for us, though,"

He began walking back towards the doors in utter silence and under the heavy weight of stares. This ended, though, when he heard a shuffle just six feet away from the doors and he turned while hearing Harry's voice echo,

"I'm sorry,"

Draco looked to him, "Apology accepted,"

Harry's sad expression turned angry, "You know I'm not,"

He simpered, "Of course,"

He put his hand out again and took the risk of allowing it to go un-taken for a second time, or rather, a third time, but he watched the horror etch itself onto Ron Weasley's face and confusion unto the girl beside him as Harry walked up to Draco with pride swelling in his chest. He gingerly placed his hand into Draco's and he blushed furiously when he felt Draco's dexterous hand twist against his own and his spidery, smooth fingers twine with his. He met Draco's eyes that were surprisingly soft and sympathetic looking. He saw the hint of a smile draw itself onto Draco's perfect face, making his heart skip a beat. Draco Malfoy's aura of elegance and sophistication had always erupted jealousy in Harry, a jealousy he never truly accepted or allowed to show. That refinement filled Harry like a rising sun when it was so modest; just like the way he smiled. It was barely there at all, no tangible evidence that anything so beautiful ever actually existed but it was in the corners of his full lips, invisibly twisted into a semi-smile. It was hypnotizing and only there if you looked hard for it; like a silent room when the light enters just right and you can see the little particles of dust in the air. Harry blamed his heart's reaction on the potion raging through his body like a tornado of fanboyish infatuation focused completely on his worst enemy. The first person he had ever attempted to kill.

Harry tried to feel some form of dislike fill him, tried to think back to his failed attempt to kill Draco, even to the time he fought Draco one-sidedly in the boy's restroom the year before. Nothing came, though, only more adoration. What was worse was his vision; his glasses were just fine, but his eyes kept running down and looking at the back of Draco's designer jeans. They were too tight. Not too tight, really, they fit Draco perfectly. That was the problem; they were too tight. Harry gulped inaudibly, a familiar, borderline barbaric desire coming back to him as he realized they were on moving stairs.

"You're holding my hand,"

"I'm quite aware,"

"…why?"

"I want to take you somewhere,"

"You could take me there without holding my hand," Harry told him, his eyes still stuck below the boy's tailbone.

"I thought you'd like it,"

"…turn around,"

Draco faced him; Harry released a loud exhale.

"What's wrong, Potter?"

_Just as I thought, they're just as tight in front…_

"…Potter?"

Harry licked his lips and Draco's heart bumped in worry and his abdomen ached with interest when he watched Harry's pupils enlarge like a shark on the prowl.

"…Potter? W-what's wrong with you?"

Harry looked up, his eyes dark and all on his mind was that slightly visible bulge attached to the somewhat feminine waist of his recent obsession. Draco backed away a step,

"Potter, answer me,"

"Your pants…"

Draco glanced down at himself, shortly wondering if his fly was down, but then looked to Harry again,

"What about them?"

There was a thick silence and it struck Draco; they were fit. He tried to ignore it although his face turned a brilliant red, knowing now that Harry Potter was imaging him naked. He felt so self-conscious that he had to turn away. He tightened his hand around Harry's,

"Keep it pure, Potter,"

"W-what?"

"I'm not having my innocence ruined by you,"

"You're a virgin?"

Draco answered bitterly, "As far as I know,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, forget it. Just come along and stop ogling me,"

Harry was dragged behind Draco again, mumbling angrily, "I was not ogling!"

"Right, right, it was the potion staring, I know, now just shut up and follow me,"

Harry grunted but reluctantly kept silent the rest of the way. He was blindly led to the top of the Astronomy Tower, the balcony scattered with telescopes pointed upward. As they passed the balcony, Harry wondered aloud,

"The Astronomy Tower?"

"Not exactly,"

"What do you mean?"

Draco didn't answer, but rather took Harry to the adjacent classroom through a window he struggled to open. Harry asked his question again, but it went, again, unanswered as they began to climb into the room.

"Why are we sneaking in from the balcony?"

"Flitwick locks his door. We have to get into his room, and the Astronomy room is always open. This is the only way to get to where I'm taking you,"

"Which is where now?"

Draco looked back at him halfway through the window, the small of his back arched, creating a perfectly rounded and tantalizing distraction for Harry as he muttered,

"Keep your pants on, Potter, I'm about to effing show you,"

_Keeping my pants on is about all I can manage currently…_

Draco cocked a brow, as if he were able to hear Harry's thoughts.

"Keep your eyes on mine, Potter,"

"Shut up, Malfoy,"

"You're the one getting a hard-on the moment I bend over,"

"Certainly isn't your first time doin' it,"

Draco scowled and blushed, "Your attitude is disheartening, Potter,"

_That's all he's got? What's gotten into him? Why isn't he pulling out words like 'mudblood' or 'muggle-sympathizer' or 'scarhead' or 'potty'? _

"Your face is disheartening, Malfoy,"

"Your face is glued to my ass, Potter, don't even try to hide it,"

Harry's cheeks brightened, "You wear tight pants! Shut up!"

Draco smirked, "Nice comeback,"

"Nice retardation,"

"That doesn't even make sense,"

"Does too,"

Draco's beautiful eyes rolled dramatically, "You are so infantile,"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak obnoxious,"

"Yeah, retards usually have a hard time translating,"

Harry growled in unwilling surrender, "Just take me to wherever the hell you're taking me, Malfoy,"

"Gladly,"

Draco slipped his legs over the ledge and he brought Harry behind him, their hands still entwined. He rushed to the front of the room, the moonlight providing their only source of direction. Draco climbed onto the top of Flitwick's desk and Harry asked again, what it was exactly Draco was doing. He just glared and mumbled something about pretending not to hear him anymore. Harry would have crossed his arms in a frustrated huff, but his hand was still being held. Harry stared at the connection suspiciously, fighting back the urge to smile. There was something really nice about Draco's hand against his. Whether it had to do with how smooth and pampered Draco's skin felt against his own rough, broom-callused fingers or how it filled Harry with a flood of security and fulfillment and unadulterated nirvana, he couldn't tell. Suddenly their eyes met and Draco's shocking azure irises were sparkling with secret intentions,

"Come on,"

Harry was aided by their linked hands onto the desk and he saw that Draco had removed a ceiling tile.

"I put a silencing charm around us, since the ceiling is made of stone blocks, I figured it'd be loud if I took one out. Just tug it back in once we make it up there,"

"Malfoy, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Draco chuckled uncharacteristically, "Where's your Gryffindor sense of adventure, Potter?"

Harry sighed and followed Draco up. He pulled the stone back into place from its spot in levitation, finding himself in something akin to an attic. Large enough that dusty boxes and a small couch could be found and there was a white light coming from one end of the small room. Draco, crouched down slightly, as was Harry, led him to the source. He pulled down more stones and stepped up on them, leading Harry to a much brighter area. He squinted, cold rushing through his hair, his hand tightening around Draco's in anticipation. He opened his eyes completely and exhaled deeply in surprise,

"…this is…"

"The top of Hogwarts, that's right,"

Harry looked to the blonde, "How did you find this?"

Draco looked away, his hand suddenly seeming weak in Harry's, "I've had to…lead people to the castle before where…no one else would see me,"

Draco's confident aura changing so drastically to something so vulnerable and broken scared Harry and he wanted nothing more than to make Draco laugh. He looked up, grinning in hopes that it would spread,

"It's beautiful out here," He said conversationally, "You can see all the stars from here, not even the Astronomy balcony has this kind of view!"

Draco met Harry's eyes again, "Well, I took you here because I know this potion is going to drive you nuts and I don't want…I don't want you to make more of an idiot out of yourself during school than you already do, so…I come here every night, so if you ever need me…or want to see me or something…you can meet me here in secret. No embarrassment, that way, I figured,"

Harry flustered, his heart fluttering,

"That's…incredibly…uhm…sweet…of you…Draco,"

"…thanks…"

Harry felt his palms getting sweaty, but he didn't want Draco to let go. He was beginning to forget what it felt like to have his hand free.

"Do you mind that?"

"Mind what?"

"My calling you Draco,"

"…not at all,"

"Call me Harry,"

Draco smiled weakly, "Very well, Harry. You can meet me here now,"

"Yes…thank you,"

Harry leaned forward, his free hand clasping Draco's jaw gently, "Really, thank you, Draco,"

"Y-yes, you're welcome,"

"Do you mind that?"

"Mind what now?"

"My touching you,"

With Harry's left hand cupping his face tenderly and his right hand preoccupied with Draco's fingers roped around his and their silhouettes toe-to-toe, Draco couldn't help his heart rate from intensifying. He kept his eyes on anything but Harry's, scared that he might turn to a puddle if he looked into them,

"No, I don't mind it,"

Harry rested his forehead against Draco's, their hair meeting and looking the same shade of ivory due to the dying of the moon. Harry's breath was so close to Draco's he could feel the letters of Harry's words meeting his lips and melting away against his heated flesh.

"Would you mind it, Draco, if I kissed you?"

Harry wanted to laugh at feeling the boy stiffen in nerves and his palms begin to sweat like Harry's own, he could almost hear Draco's heart pounding and could feel all the warmth radiating from his handsome face.

"Y-yes, I'd mind it, Harry,"

He was disappointed, "…oh, I…right,"

Harry went to further himself from Draco, but his spidery hand curled around Harry's sweater, pulling him back. He pressed their foreheads together again, taking Harry's hand in his own free on and making it come back to the side of his face,

"That doesn't mean I want you to stop…stop being close to me or anything,"

"But—"

"Stop asking questions, Harry, you're so goddamn annoying with that,"

Harry immediately shut his mouth, choking back a laugh.

"Sorry, Draco,"

"Of course, Harry,"

"You know I'm not really,"

"Of course, Harry,"

The cool, stoic sound of Draco's voice was a relief. With Hermione always angry about something and Ron always complaining, the lull of Draco's even tone made his heart warm. His stomach squirmed and his heart skipped a beat when he suddenly felt Draco's hand crawling up his shirt. He looked at Draco's stare that was stuck on his free hand take away his sweater,

"What are you doing?"

"You look ridiculous dressed in Weasley's hand-me-downs,"

Harry would have defended Ron had he been there, but since he wasn't, Harry had to agree that he even felt ridiculous wearing such ill-fit clothing. He backed away a little and helped by taking the hand from Draco's cheek to the hem of the sweater, but when it was pulled over enough that it met at their linked hands, their gazes met.

"What should we do?"

Harry was shocked by the question. Not because it was insanely cute that Draco saw no answer to this puzzle that pleased him, but because he was troubled with the idea of their hands being unchained as well. He did, hesitantly take his hand away so that the sweater would fall and just as it did, he was pushed to the ground. He looked up in shock as Draco straddled over Harry's legs, leaning back and removing the tight shoes. He laughed looking at it, then to Harry,

"These shoes are almost three sizes too small for you,"

"Ron's shoe size is nothing to sneeze at, but I know,"

Draco removed his shoes and put them onto Harry's feet; they fit perfectly.

"There. Take mine for now,"

Harry blushed for the umpteenth time of the night, "Thank you, Draco,"

"You're welcome, Harry. I would give you my jeans so you wouldn't have to walk around in that baggy monstrosity, but I'm thinner than you and mine would probably be a bit binding and I can't imagine I'd be much graceful walking around in those—I'd trip and probably make a royal idiot out of myself,"

"…and you wouldn't want to strip me of that either, right?"

"…what?"

"You would give me your jeans, but you wouldn't want me stripping down in front of you,"

"…right. Right, of course. Yes, you know that, though,"

"…yes, of course,"

Draco stared at Harry's chest for a while, virile and broad and satin looking in the moonlight. He put a hand out and touched to where he could feel Harry's racing heart,

"This is really going to suck,"

Harry remembered his words, thinking then that Draco Malfoy would be his usual self; cold, immature and aggravating, but something was different. He was almost…okay with it. Almost.

He laughed, "Yeah…I'm sorry,"

"I know you don't mean it,"

"Yeah, I know,"


End file.
